Chapter 17

I counted the people following me through Brno's cobblestone streets. Three of them. No, four.

Amateur hour.

I ducked into a small café, ordering coffee I didn't want.

The place was empty. Except for an old man reading a newspaper.

"Rough morning?" the barista asked in Czech.

"You could say that." I smiled, replying in the same language.

My followers scattered outside, trying to look casual. They were good. But not good enough.

I sat by the window, watching their reflections in the glass. Two pretending to window shop. One checking his phone. The fourth—

"Mind if I join you?"

I nearly jumped. Marcus stood beside my table, coffee in hand.

"Those are your people outside?" I asked.

He sat down without waiting for an invitation. "Insurance. Nothing personal."

"Four seems excessive."

"Six, actually." He smiled. "You missed two."

I took a sip of coffee to hide my surprise. "What do you want, Marcus?"

"Direct. I like that." He leaned back, studying me. "How's the leg healing?"

My hand tighte

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